Today, May 24, 2012 marks the one-year anniversary that I left my job to move to Northeastern Turkey. There is a rising trending culture in America that is very much oriented around: “Quit your job! Live your dream! Meet your full potential in your own special way! XOXO!”
Even when flying solo, bees always have the hive mind.
I couldn’t believe it. I had found quite possibly the very last living melified man and he was 115 years-old. This man was on his deathbed, claiming to have kept himself alive over the past few years by eating only his own honey. He was the oldest beekeeper in Turkey, and I would dare say, quite possibly the oldest living beekeeper in the world. He had kept bees during the time of Ataturk, during world wars, during Turkey’s rise and fall as a global power, and during hundreds of Karsian honey seasons. (more…)
Why don’t we go and break the rules already?
Twice a month my mind wanders to that scary amusement park attraction where all of the floors are uneven, the lights are dark, puke and popcorn coat the limited air molecules, and every wall is lined with reality warping mirrors, transforming something like a simple cardigan into a horrible nightmare. In my version of this room, the floor is sticky with sour honey and all around me the warped mirrors display everything that could possibly go wrong with my company. I see myself all alone in the middle of the room, big eyes crying in fear and shock; my face frozen in a permanent silent scream. (more…)
Armed with shields of Honey Comb, let the Honey Games begin! (and may the honey be forever in your flavor).
It’s five degrees on April 4th in Kars, and I am about to officially enter the “Honey Games,” a term I use for the honey wars being currently waged in Turkey. Thus far, I have been a small player, dragged into honey laundering schemes on the Georgian border in a smokey dark late night bar (where I tactfully found a way to say no, and get out). I’ve been asked to give my seal of approval on honey that I know is not only fake, but probably infused with counterfeit drugs and supplies smuggled in from Iran. Once again, I found a way to quietly remove myself, maintaining my reputation without harming someone’s pride. (more…)
My Bees-ness tips... (yes I did this sketch 
)!
Lately, I have gotten a lot of inquiries about Kickstarter. What is the trick? Is there a strategy? What have I learned in those nerve-wracking cliffhanging 30 days that I can share with others to help THEM achieve their goals? I have thought about this for a month, long and hard. I have thought about our mistakes, what we learned, what we did, what we still need to get done. I was tempted to write a post that describes how valuable a good video is, how to assess the different crowd sourcing platforms to see which one is best for you, how to calculate costs around your campaign and what you should aim for as a goal amount, how to run a viral media campaign. (more…)
"Have you really forgotten us?"
A toxic cocktail of dust, coal, petroleum, burning garbage, fog, smoke, and air strangles me as I walk through Kars at sunset. Outside of the lethal bubble of fumes that encapsulates the city, my blurred vision distinguishes the smooth lines of a pristine landscape that looks like the moon. It is surreal, martian terrain that suggests thin air and icy famine. A small blur, a fox whips its head out of the snow like a curious character from the Little Prince, but too hungry to linger, it dives back into the icy crust of the steppes. If the land out there is the moon, here in Kars, it is sandy red Venus, the houses burping with rising smoke and heat, a lethal venom that slithers through my nose and down my throat. (more…)
Loving it!
Never in my life have I not fallen asleep on a plane. Until now. For the entire 2 hours from Istanbul to Kars, I peered out of the window, mapping my future over the rippling snow-covered mountain ranges that lead to Kars. I searched for the familiar landmarks I have been crossing now for years, the major highways, lakes, rivers, valleys, and cities – leading me all the way to one of Turkey’s last frontiers and my home for the next nine months. (more…)
Last May, when I quit my job to move to Kars, Turkey to live with nomadic beekeepers, there were three thoughts running through my mind:
1. I have no idea what I am doing.
2. I know no one.
We had a great Kickstarter campaign last month and we are now preparing to send out all of our gifts and words of thanks around the world (thank you, tesekkur ederiz, გმადლობთ, cox sağ olun, mamnoon!). Read the rest of this entry
Sugarloaf, Colorado: “The bees might think you are a bear,” speculates five year-old beekeeper Noelle. I am wearing a dark blue mechanic onesy with “Louie” ironed to the front. Noelle lives on Sugarloaf mountain where bears are close neighbors. She is thinking like a mountain bee as she gives me the look over. While I stay sting-free, Noelle’s bee knowledge and intuition humbles me. (more…)
Boulder, Colorado: “What’s your favorite thing about being a beekeeper?” I ask Tim as he carries a bee box in his hands, climbing into the lush purple flowered Boulder foothills. “Its days like today,” he replies. I completely get it. As the sun peers over the mountains, the bees are glowing. The meadow is in full bloom, and I feel like I can’t breathe in deep enough to capture all of the smells. (more…)
A few of Tim Brod's honey bees glow in the Colorado sun.
As June snow falls in the Colorado Rockies, and cottonwood pollen blizzards in the front-country, beekeepers take to their boxes. Revolutionaries, entrepreneurs, nature-lovers, and a five-year-old are a few of Colorado’s incredible beekeepers. Read more about them here:
Tom Theobald & Niwot Honey – Niwot, Colorado
Tim Brod & the Highland Bees – Boulder, Colorado
The Farmgirls: Tracy Bellehumeur & Noelle – Sugarloaf, Colorado
The Istanbul auto-bus is a microcosm of the city, full of people, smells, and bursting at the seams. Lethargic in the heat and traffic, we roll by the Marmaris and Bosphorus. Seagulls swoop down to catch simits cast from the sides of boats. Zeki Müren blasts from a car radio as the driver attempts to harmonize. The rods of side-walk fishermen sway in the wind.
I am back.
As our bus heaves slowly in Friday evening traffic, my body is languid but my heart is tense. Ok. I made it to Turkey. What next?
My gut knows the answer, but my brain can’t believe it – Kars.
Everyone is quick to tell me don’t go. The list of possible dangers is long and familiar. Having lived in Turkey and traveled around the country before – sometimes solo and always as a woman, undeniable fear about everything that is possible creeps inside of me. I am not completely sure what is to come, how can anyone ever be? I take my fear and funnel it towards preparations. All day and all night, I research, I study, I write, I work, I plan. Most of all, I decide on a set of rules:
In spite of the legends about Turkey’s wild east, my intuition tells me I am heading in the right direction. So on June 25th I leave the crowds of Istanbul behind me and board a plane to Kars.
Sefa Ak holds a kestral for morning feedings.
“I can give you a lift to Kars,” a man and his family offer as they drive up to the curb. They are in the last car to leave the airport parking-lot, and they have been watching, waiting to see if someone was coming to get me. “I’ll be fine,” I say, “a friend is on the way.” They look at me reluctantly. The parking-lot is empty. All the other passengers from our flight, the only flight, have continued on their journeys to somewhere else. (more…)
Ali Bey, a beekeeper of 50 some-odd years greets me in Kars mountain meadows.
“I am not afraid of dogs,” I tell my group of laughing colleagues, they nod in consent and let me go. I head down the dusty road away from Kuyucuk Lake, away from our small pack of teenage “boys of the state,” away from the hovering smells of barbecued meat. (more…)
Aysel Unal holds bees from her new swarm in the palm of her hand.
I have drunk 30 cups of cay, eaten six desserts, thwarted two engagement proposals, and walked amidst a swarm of thousands and thousands of bees. When I left the house this morning, I thought I would be writing the whole day in a tea garden– so I was only wearing shorts and a tank top. Encased in golden flicks of light and the loud hum of wings, my heart danced. (more…)
Beyond hills and through vast meadows of wild gorunca, new villages emerge before us. Some have tall lines of trees and horses with baby colts tripping around their legs, others are a jumble of small stone houses caked with white and blue paint. Each give off a distinct feeling, like warmth on rocks, or looking across fields from a hillside, or green perfumed shade from yellow rose bushes.
And in each of the villages we visit, sometimes behind a house, or sometimes lining the ridge of a horizon are small brown organic bee boxes. The Marmara Grubu program gave participants four boxes as part of the course, and in some cases, women decided to purchase more. We visit, check the boxes, and without delay are invited to tea and dessert. The desserts are always handmade, sweet cakes, spongy cakes, fruit cakes, and helva.
I ask questions: what are the obstacles you face in beekeeping? Is organic beekeeping a challenge? Will you continue? Some women explain that finding a good spot for the bees is difficult, or that initially gaining acceptance from their community was a challenge. Organic beekeeping so far is easy here, where miles and miles of land are clear of everything but wildflowers and meadows. And with a resounding “yes!” every woman wants to continue.
While I am full from more dessert than I could imagine, I relish in the serenity of our afternoons in the villages.
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Duygu quickly grabs her gear from all parts of the farm. Her mom follows in step to help her. Duygu is 17, and she just finished taking her placement exam to attend university. Duygu and her twin cousins (who are 18) are most likely the youngest organic certified beekeepers in Turkey. Here in Cakmak koy, five women under the age of 23 are keeping bees.
“Will you take your bees with you to university?” I ask. “Sure!” they laugh. I ask them what kind of career they would like, and how their parents support their beekeeping. Some explain that they want to become beekeeping teachers, and professional beekeepers. For others, it will remain a hobby while they pursue their studies. They describe how at first everyone in the village was reluctant for their daughters to sign up for the program. But it sounded like a good opportunity, and sure enough 140 women applied for the 40 spots. Now all the neighbors are even a little envious.
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This is Gizem. She is approximately 7-years-old and my new photographer. During my several day stay with Ayse the beekeeper of Yalinkoy, I gave Ayse’s niece Gizem my camera and let her have at it. She took a few of the photos below… (more…)
Watching for the storm, beekeepers wait for their next orders
The minute the plane landed on the tarmac, I knew everything had changed. My mountainous, lush, green Kars was dry. Although the weather was hot, there was a slight shiver in the air as if fall had come. The date was only July 10th. (more…)
Here for honey? Welcome!
I live in Kars, Turkey, which is a town almost entirely dedicated to selling honey, cheese, meat, and milk products. On any given block, I estimate that an average of 72 percent of the shops sell honey. Golden jars of all colors sit in windows, and honeycomb glows like wall art or stained glass. After learning the basic honey words: bal (honey), urun (product), kovan (hive), petek (comb), cicek (flower) you start to see them everywhere, along with stacked bee boxes, white beekeeper suits, tin smokers, and rectangular honey frames. Even in the cell phone stores there are little boxes labeled with cicek bal, flower honey. In.the.cell-phone.stores. CELL PHONE STORES! (more…)
Faryal Cagislar, Ferha Yildirimtukr, and Oya Kardas work together to learn beekeeping with their first set of organic beehives at Kafkas University in Kars.
Women in Turkey’s Northeast are positioned to lead an organic beekeeping revolution.
Let me tell you why. (more…)
Queens in Posof, ready to hatch.
Everyday my quest to learn about honey in Turkey brings me closer and closer to borderlands. More often than not, many of the beekeepers who are considering organic certification over the next year are within jumping distance of the Georgia and Armenia borders. Having visited over 60 beekeepers in this situation over the past week, here is a quick snapshot of a border-beeing. (more…)
My dream Artvin house: wood, kilims, and a perfect view for my inner teyze indulgences.
Today, I awoke with a craving for gum that tastes like a tree. I admit this is a random desire, particularly since I once purchased this kind of Turkish gum to feed to my foreign friends as a prank. But with my new found love of eating the grassy plants one could find in a town median (thank you Kars), it only seemed right to want to eat a tree now that I am in the forested mountain slopes of Artvin. (more…)
Without much to distinguish the good honey from bad, how can you tell whether to spend 10$ or 100$?
There has been a long pause in posts since last week, largely due to weddings, Kars’ infamous electricity outages, birthdays, travels, visitors, visa runs, and days stock-full of, well, work. As I catch up with all of the 10 posts that I owe you, here is my challenge for you: what are the most popular myths about honey? (more…)
Before the Deli Bal...Ready with my three kilo jar of Deli Bal, I am admittedly a little afraid of taking my first bite.
The Ten Thousand look more like one hundred. Many are limping, their bodies crumbling beneath the dense vegetation and steep bramble-covered cliffs. We were once an army that so many had feared. Now our rib-cages bulge beneath our torn tunics. Our clothes are loosely held together by tired thread and caked blood. As we near the top of a hill, our bodies droop to the ground, our mouths almost breathing in the mud… until…we see it. It’s true. Smoke. (more…)
In the yayla above Yusufeli, karakovan hives are stacked like Rolos.
Creativity knows no bounds when it comes to hive placement in Turkey’s northeast. Built into an attic, balanced upon a rooftop, suspended atop colorful tracks, perched on a tree top, steady above a pile of rocks…hives display local beekeeper’s skills, culture, history, and even a little imagination.
In some cases, the hives are karakovan (traditional bee hives) formed from hollowed Ilhamur tree trunks. Karakovan hives were first placed high up into the trees long before conventional Langstroth hives arrived in the region, and relatives still climb to the hives several times a year for harvest and very light maintenance. The general rule of karakovan is the less you touch them, the better. Karakovan hives origins can be traced to the Caucuses, and they have been used in the northeast as long as almost anyone can remember. A select few ancient beekeepers tell me of a time before karakovan where the bees were kept in rocks. The karakovan hives were introduced as an upgrade in order to protect the bees and hives from bears, and improve harvesting process. When you see how high beekeepers place their hives into the trees, you have to wonder if they also have other motives: like scaring the crap out of their fear-loving Turkish moms. (more…)
The local restaurant awaits.
“Ok, if you end up sleeping outside tonight, give me a call and I will drive up there and get you,” Ahmet, the owner of a bus-stop cay-stall tells me before he packs me into a dolmuş. Wait, what?
The door slides shut and my mind begins to race. Wait! Will Ayder be so crowded that I won’t be able to find a room? If this doubt exists, can’t we just call someone and check first? (more…)
Entrance of the karakovan, into a secret life of bees!
After shivering wet and cold in my bed, I embrace daylight and stumble into Hasan’s kitchen. Men rapidly discuss local politics. I plunk my camera on the table, turn off my ears, and indulge in dripping cheesy corn-flour fondue, homemade yogurt, eggs, and tomatoes. Then I hear a word, “çerçeve”… “frame. I turn on my ears at the sound of a magic honey cue word. (more…)
Everyone agrees: this has been the worst honey seasons across Turkey in 10 years. Where hives should be yielding 20-60 kilos of honey, many are yielding a mere five. This is not from major bee losses, diseases, or an increase in cell phone waves. These production struggles are from climate change. Too much rain, or not enough, have cut seasons short, dried up flowers, and dampened productivity.
As a result of the prevailing honey woes and the increasingly volatile seasons, I have taken to the hills (and two ends of Turkey’s seas) to do my research. Before I enter business with 10,000 + hypersensitive Caucasian women (i.e. kafkas bees), I want to learn everything there is to learn. And oh yea, and I have decided I want to write a book.
Writing a book somehow makes sense. I could raise the profile of Turkish honey, as well as increase awareness about the environmental issues, culture, history, diversity, politics, and stories of the local people – all through the lens of honey and bees. Shedding light on this incredible region will also help the Balyolu venture and the bees-honey-women-development cause. For at the heart of great marketing lies an incredible story. And I can tell you this, that story is here.
So as my journey unfolds, I am swept away from Kars temporarily to Ayder (Rize), Yusufeli (Artvin), Tekirdag/Gokceada (Trakya) and the famous Macahel (Artvin).
Here is the sneak peek of what is to come:
Ayder: beekeepers take to the trees ... or their rooftops to harvest famous Ayder honey.
Yusufeli: From the hights of the Kackar Mountains to the depths of the Coruh Valley, ancient Georgian bridges and churches blend into the stunning geography. Bees really know how to pick the most beautiful places to live.
Tekirdag: Though radiant in the mid-summer sun, Tekirdag sunflowers spell danger to bee populations.
Gokceada: at the western most point of Turkey, hives face the surrounding Greek islands and Gokceada's raw past.
Macahel: leaving the mighty forests behind them, bees return to the safety of their karakovan home.
Stay tuned.
Cows pattern the hillside. From a distance they appear like a strings of ants.
It’s nine p.m., and even with the full moon I can see thousands of stars. I am at 2,300 meters (about 7,500 feet) and I am walking into a dark long shed. In the darkness, I smell hot humid boiled milk. I keep walking into a deep throaty smell of fermentation. Finally I end in a smell that is cold, aged, salty. The lights shoot on and giant warm orbs of gruyere cheese glow from the shelves. All around me men suit up and start pulling the cheeses from the shelves, salting, spinning, wiping, drying… and to think just five minutes ago I thought I was headed to bed! (more…)
Camili Muslim worshipers and honey bees have a few things in common, they both love bright colors, flora, and elaborate geometry.
A famous Turkish honey saying, “He who handles honey licks his fingers,” must not have considered he-who-practices-Ramazan, the Muslim holiday of fasting. As we open hives and begin harvesting honey this month, my beekeeper friends look at me miserably, their fingers all sticking without any licking! (more…)
Another reason why I feel like a cheater? Sunflowers are one of my favorite flowers. Their beautiful patterns, their stunning colors, their sense of community. Just have to remember, don't blame the flower, blame it on the a-aaa-aalgecides.
In Kars, I try to travel like a bee. Staying close to my home base, but leaving to feast on the diverse scents, exotic colors, and daily changes of my surroundings. I glide over the familiar rolling steppes that have become my home, noticing when budding flowers open after the rain and when old ones are withered. I feel the new season that is every couple hundred meters on these ancient steppes, and the untamed wild of 2,000 flowers calms my heart to a happy buzz…
That’s why I feel like a cheater when I jump in a plane, and the next thing I know I am standing at the farthest western corner of Turkey. My warm fleeces, my cozy socks, my heavy sleeping bag are snug in Kars and I am a world away on a whole other set of borders in Trakya. Hugging Bulgaria and Greece, the new landscape is hot, sunny, European, and crowded. (more…)
We were able to move a swarm of new bees into the new hives, but we did not open any of the others.
Today I made a mistake. It was the kind that results in puffy eyes, howling, deep stings, and lies. Now a good six miles walk away from the mistake, I am tempted to keep it to myself, to tuck it away, even to use it as an excuse to give up. But then it would really be a mistake. Instead, I am posting it on the blog and turning it into a lesson, because at the end of the day, inspiration and success isn’t always coated with sugar. In fact, like good honey, we benefit the most from our experiences when they are served without any added sweeteners. (more…)
Sometimes, work is hard – even when you are doing exactly what you love exactly where you need to be. But everyone has those days, when you are trying to make lemonade and as you are walking back from the manav (fruit stand), your lemons fall out of your bag and all of the little kids on the street start kicking them around the block. It’s no one’s fault. The universe is just politely telling you, “take a break.” (more…)
Blue, Red, Yellow, White! Beehives of all colors visit the Kars region.
Beekeeping in Turkey is politically apolitical about politics. What?
I studied politics in undergrad, I moved to Turkey to study political elections in 2008, and I quit my job working in Washington D.C., the city of US politicians just last May. One would say that by now, I have had my fill of politics. When I moved to the Northeast this past summer, I thought to myself, ah, this summer in Turkey will just be about bees, the most apolitical creature around. Without even getting into the politics of the queen bee (will save that for a later post), I have learned that no matter where you go, the political world is just beyond the riverbed. I think living and working on five borders also doesn’t help. (more…)
Everything is a cloud. Even the dashboard in front of me sweats from the fog in the dolmuş (minibus). The white layer of fuzz on the windows tells of the cold moisture outside hitting the hot shaking glass of the car. My arms are clammy and I can feel stray pieces of hair, dust particles, and breadcrumbs sticking to my face. I can barely see the front of the car, let alone the cliff’s edge that hugs our wheels. Almost teetering over the edge, we slam to a halt, and the 25 people around me gasp in a series of stifled cries. The 17 day-old baby asleep on my lap wrinkles its nose. (more…)
“Wow, she is such a queen bee!” says a jaded co-worker in another article talking about women in the work place. Time and time again, these articles resurface, drawing a connection between bossy women in the work place and queen bees. Usually the connotations are negative, that queen bees rule the office, bullying other women in an effort to “dominate the hive.” Its feminism backfired, they report. Women become so powerful that they oppress other women in an effort to keep their power, and in doing so replicate the struggles that they had to go through in order to get where they are. If you haven’t read this kind of article, here is a quick sample for you, courtesy of Google: On “Queen Bee Syndrome,” where women oppress each other in the work Place - http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article1265356.ece. (more…)
I try on my tree for size...looks like it could be a good fit!
“KIZ!” I hear Hasan call (meaning GIRL! in Turkish). “Would you like to buy this tree?” he asks me, patting a hefty chestnut. Its rooted deep in the ground with felt-like moss growing across its trunk. I think we are doing our usual family style joking, so I give Hasan my prepared reply, “sure, let me call Barak Obama and ask him to send me a check.” (more…)
Double the fun!
KA-RA-KO-VAN.
Since coming to Turkey, karakovan hives have fascinated me. However, out in Kars, there have only been a few conventional karakovan hives to pique my imagination. This small handful of the old-school-hollowed-out-trunk-style karakovan hive is mostly for show and tell. Because there is neither a tree culture, nor a large bear-attacking-hive culture (and most hives in Kars come complete with a growling Anatolian Shepard or Kangal), there isn’t much use for the traditional karakovan. However, in response to the high demand for karakovan honey comb, many local beekeepers have found alternative ways to adapt a modern box to produce karakovan honey (they instead use rounded frames or mini cubed frame inserts). But this solution aesthetically and culturally doesn’t fully compare to the looming dark Macaheli karakovan hive cylindrical orbs that I have come to love.* (more…)
“Yiiiiheeeeeuuu!!!!” everyone yells as my arms are yanked down to the ground, then up to the sky, like the slanted poles of a tent. The gencler (young people) around me make the movements gracefully, like eagles swooping for their prey. I look like a floppy fish. The blaring sound of the tulum (bagpipe) at maximum volume is relief to my ears, because I am almost certain that it masks my awkwardly uncontrolled screams. (more…)
Bumbling...
Holding her gun with a big grin, a woman shoots a round of bullets into the mountain mist. I scream and dive under a log. Around me, my hosts laugh. “What are you doing Buket Hanim?” they tease. Although the sight of me squeezing under a log is funny, they kindly put away the gun, and coax me out from my hiding place. (more…)
We may be young, and we may be less experienced, but we are ready to take the leap (Cat Jaffee and Selin Ersoy at Ani outside of Kars, Turkey. Photo by Yakup Sasmaz).
In attempting to launch my social venture BALYOLU, I get three general responses.
Response one comes from the village. It’s the Turkish version of this: “KIZ! (GIRL!) Hold-up. You’re 25, not married, and you have no kids…? WHAT have you been doing all of this time? There is this nice young man who has finished his military service. He is even a teacher…” Or there is this recent favorite from an 18 year-old-admirer “REALLY? You’re 25? You don’t look a day over 17! You don’t even have wrinkles around your eyes!” (more…)
"Sorma ne haldeyim, Sorma kederdeyim..." Buket Hanim singing Zeki Muren. Although the ingredients for a royal Turkish cry-fest are here, I shed nary a tear. Also for the record, I am actually drinking the lemonade (Photo by Batur).
The last time I really “left” Turkey, I cried for eight days. I cried in the shower, I cried in the bus, I cried at my going away party, and I cried in the airport line, ultimately giving away all of my clothes and comic books to a cleaning lady in the bathroom. (more…)
Kangal dogs with massive bulging muscles surge across open fields as they chase our train. We are moving so slow that the dogs stay with us for minutes which drip into hours. They trample through meadows and forests, hugging our winding tracks. They only give up the hunt as we enter the narrow canyons, deep valleys, and craggy mountainsides of Somewhere Central Anatolia. I am on a 47-hour train-ride from Kars to Istanbul. I have one mission, and despite my attention span’s protests, it’s not admiring Kangal dogs from the safety of the restaurant car. I want to write one good 10-minute speech about Balyolu. This speech is to be presented at a conference called “For the Love of…” hosted by the Turkish Women’s International Network (WIN). So far, my preparations are going something like this: (more…)
Famous faces of Van.
On October 23 at 13:41pm, a 7.2 Richter scale earthquake hit the Van province. Approximately 280 people have been reported dead and hundreds more missing. Nearly 300 after-shocks vibrated surrounding provinces of Kars, Agri, and Igdir. Aid efforts across the region are channeling funds, supplies, and volunteers to help repair damages, rescue trapped civilians, and provide food and shelter. (more…)
The hive on the ledge.
Vzzzz. The noise passed beneath my sleeve, crawling deeper and deeper into my shirt. Vzzz. Oh no, I thought to myself. Oh. No. My jaw dropped as my face transformed silently into an expression of horror. There it was, a buzzing inside of my bra. I didn’t fear bee stings – even in places where a bee should never access. No, what I actually feared that very moment was the audience watching my every move: the mayor of Cildir, the first place honey winner of Ardahan, and my friend visiting from out of town; three men in a properly conservative corner of Ardahan. Yep. There was no way I could gracefully deal with this situation. (more…)
I touched the ground at 6:30 am, just as temperatures dropped below 0 degrees Celsius, winds averaging at 20 meters/second ripped across the runway, and Iceland’s first set of winter blizzards raged from the fjords to the highlands. (more…)
Learning from women beekeepers (photo by Irfan Kandemir).
It was one of those fall days where autumn sun glowed on the backs of hands and webbed bee wings. Where the air smelled like apples and hazelnuts, and the first dead leaves crunched into brown flakes under our feet. (more…)
The heart of Kars.
Hi All! Balyolu wants to wish you the happiest of holidays!
Click on our link below to see our newsletter, to meet our team (yes we have a team!), and to find out exciting new updates about the Balyolu program for 2012: http://us4.campaign-archive1.com/?u=68cd652cabfc9103f1c044d27&id=c2fe19f237
If you want to stay on our mailing list in the future, feel free to also subscribe at the link above.
Have a wonderful holidays everyone! Your encouragement and support this past year has been the greatest gift of all!
Warmly,
Cat
Esref Armagan filming the VOLVO-S604 web campaign (courtesy of http://www.livincool.com/cars/esref-armagan-per-volvo-s60)
Over the last few months, the Balyolu has faced many challenges, and one of our biggest is this: what will our logo be? A logo is your story, the face of your company, and the image that everyone will remember when they think of your idea. Balyolu wants to be a new perspective; on business, the environment, beekeeping, and tourism. We want to be a company that inspires others to think, to taste, and to imagine. It is a loaded vision for a small logo.
But I know of one artist who challenges people to see beyond a picture, and instead compels us to use our senses and our minds to discover the possibilities of the world in which we live. That man is Esref Armagan. Esref is an artist who paints with his hands, and the person I wanted to design our logo. (more…)
Photo by Claire Bangser: Our creative genius, and the visionary who helped to breathe life into Balyolu with a video, a message, and a vision. Claire - you inspire me! (http://www.clairebangser.com)
I am staring at a boardroom of strangers. I don’t know who they are, but they include corporate leaders of many businesses including Kiva, Bing, House of Genius, TravelShark, and more. My face is hot, and a rush of deep emotion feels like a fiery liquid – starting in my stomach and moving through all my veins into my face. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry I repeat in my head. But before I know it, I am covering my scrunched up face with a sheet of paper. Scribbled at the bottom of that paper is one phrase: “you’re going to make it.” (more…)
Every living creature has a “sweet spot,” a baseline for happiness, an instinct or internal compass that knows what it is that we are actually supposed to do. We may not entirely find what we are looking for, but something drives all of us to search for what it is that makes us buzz. (more…)
We are building balyolu, the world’s very first honey road, right here in rural northeastern Turkey… have you been wondering what an average day looks like? Check it out!
I am on my way to Cilders in 2 weeks. My friend grew up in this village and has not returned in 35 y
This video brings back such fond memories of this part of Turkey.
It won't "cure" it, but it will lessen its severity if the honey was produced in the same local that
1. Light/white honey is organic. Unless you can guarantee that every square foot of land within 5 mi
Ah yes, humbled once again! Some of the best comments I hear about life are from people who have stu
Reblogged this on travelwyse.
I think you're right about working for yourself... It's ultimately more work, but the satisfaction o
A very lucid and candid introspection Cat. Thank you. You have worked so hard for your dream and des
Merhaba Cat, Blog'unu ilgiyle izliyorum. Çok güzel yazıların ve düşüncelerin var. Bu metinleri Türkç
[...] Want to know why we are here? Ask a village shepherd. (inspiredbeeing.com) [...]
Wonderful, thoughtful post.
Another great post with great questions and answers!
Got many info regarding bee keeping love to do need more info on it
